


We Have Not Touched The Stars, Nor Are We Forgiven (aka The One Where Ishimaru Jacks Off With Oowada Butter)

by SphericalDice



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Female Pronouns for Fujisaki Chihiro, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Psychological Trauma, Slight Canon Divergence, Spoilers, somewhat of a darkfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SphericalDice/pseuds/SphericalDice
Summary: "Kiyotaka shoved his butter covered finger between his lips and into his mouth. His bright eyes widened the second it met his taste buds. Never in his life had he tasted something so rich and creamy and salty. Never in his life had he tasted Oowada Mondo. He sucked his finger clean in one greedy slurp.“Aniki…” He breathed the title, plaintively, “you’re not really gone, are you…?”"I recommend not reading this unless you've finished Dangan Rompa THH
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	We Have Not Touched The Stars, Nor Are We Forgiven (aka The One Where Ishimaru Jacks Off With Oowada Butter)

“Wh-whoops...I slipped...Sorry, man.” 

“Sorry, man.” Was all the Biker could muster, gazing away from Kiyotaka and his remaining classmates. Though his face was veiled by his unkempt pompadour, tears crept down his visage and dripped from his chin, making their presence known to everyone. 

Ishimaru Kiyotaka didn’t remember who he voted for instead of Mondo, it wasn’t a conscious election. It could have been Byakuya, Hifumi, Yasuhiro, Aoi, Celestia, dead Chihiro, Touko the harbourer of a blade-wielding maniac, or Makoto, who shot down every last one of his feeble rebuttals, just anyone, anything but his Aniki. Kiyotaka’s final bid to save Oowada Mondo was predictably trivial. No one listened to him because no one loved like him. That had to be it, none of his classmates had a bro they made a promise too. That’s how they could be so blind and imperturbable. So wrong. It was all wrong.

The bilious cackling of the mechanical ursine wrang in Kiyotaka’s ears “Pupupupupu! Punishment time!” it squawked with excitement that mocked the mournful courtroom. 

Kiyotaka staggered forward, towards a detached Mondo who wouldn’t meet his tear-drowned eyes. The Ultimate Moral Compas didn’t get very far before Sakura swiftly encapsulated him in a bear hug. He watched the boy, the bear, and the bike pull off in the direction of an enormous metal cage embezzled with wooden tiger cut-outs. 

Gunk from his nose stained his quivering lips as he cried out “Wait! I’m asking you to just wait, please!” Kiyotaka spurted in place, hopelessly retrained by the Ultimate Fighter. 

Sakura tightened her grip “You fool! Do you want to be dragged off as well?” she snapped but her usually husky and authoritative voice was brittle. 

Kiyotaka clawed unprofitably at Sakura’s thick, brown, arms. If he could just break free he would fly ahead and save his innocent best friend. But he was not strong enough. “Why won’t you wait!? I’m begging you to listen to me!” 

Sakura groaned and hung her head, and at that moment Kiyotaka felt dampness against his hair.

The execution couldn’t have been more than a minute. Sakura attempted to shift her arms in a way that allowed her to cover Kiyotaka’s eyes but he would not allow it. He watched, sangria eyes bulging, as the tiger-adorned contraption began to spin Mondo around and around. Even from a safe distance, he could see, take in Aniki’s face, first stained with regret and then completely deformed by consternation as the machine gathered unbelievable speed. Kiyotaka witnessed the moment Aniki’s neck snapped from whiplash and he was beyond anything he could’ve done to save him. Seconds later the man Kiyotaka loved was a jet-black blemish on the cage’s steel tracks and the bitter scent of smoke bombarded his nostrils. It was over. Or so he thought.

There was a sharp ting akin to an old fashioned microwave and the machine expelled something that resembled a pint of yoghurt. The cream coloured container slid across the checkered linoleum and landed at Fukawa Touko’s feet. The haggard girl did her best impression of a cat vomiting and stumbled backwards into Asahina Aoi who reacted with a high-pitched yelp once she saw what had spooked Touko.  
“W-what is that!?” stammered the tanned swimmer, covering her mouth with a quivering palm.

“Haa...Haa...Consider it a souvenir for Captain Morals over there, pupupupupu!” Monukuma replied between pants, he was exhausted from his impromptu hula-hoop routine.  
Sakura released Kiyotaka and he clambered over to the two girls, hastily despite his legs feeling like lead. The boy fell to his knees, snatching up the container. He stared blankly at the lid and stern, smokey eyes stared back at him. It was Aniki. By then a few other classmates had gathered around him, anxious to see what was causing such a commotion. 

Naegi Makoto leered over Kiyotaka’s shoulders and read the pint’s label aloud. “‘Oowada Butter’..? What the hell, Monokuma, that’s too horrible! You can’t just turn our friend into...butter!” 

“Pupupupu, Oh but I can! And I have a feeling something beary interesting is going to happen tonight!” The bear vanished, marking the end of the trial.  
Students filed into the crimson elevator, some looking rather ill, all completely silent. Kiyotaka felt a large hand on his shoulder and glanced skyward at the tower of a woman before him.  
“Come now, friend, we do not want to miss the elevator,” Sakura said, regarding him kindly. On her other arm, Aoi clung for dear life. “We will walk you back to your room.”  
He allowed Sakura to drag him from the courtroom.

***  
They sullen group strolled wordlessly for what felt to Kiyotaka like aeons and arrived outside his room a few minutes before 10 pm.  
Sakura’s low voice cut the thick silence, “Would you like Asahina and I to stay over tonight?”

“No. That would be improper.”

“It’s fine, really,” Aoi chimed, “Ogami-chan and I have had plenty of sleepovers when I need someone!”  
If this were any other evening Kiyotaka would’ve delivered a choice lecture onto Asahina Aoi and her muscular...cohort, but tonight he said nothing. Without replying he reached for his door, but a hand on his shoulder froze his motion.

“Wait, Ishimaru.” Sakura addressed him firmly, but there was an underlying softness and compassion in her voice. “What do plan to do with that?” 

He knew immediately what she was referring to. He tightened his grip on the container. “I am going to keep it.”

“Whoa, are you sure? Just because that bear didn’t mess with the doughnuts or any of our other food doesn’t mean he didn’t poison that butter!” Aoi exclaimed, bringing a hand to her ample chest. 

Kiyotaka clenched his teeth. “I’m not going to eat it!” He trudged into his room slamming the door behind them before either girl could interject with anything else. 

He did not turn on the lights, opting instead to stand in the doorway of his black room for a while. Aoi and Sakura were likely calling out to him from behind the door, but the soundproof walls helped him blot the concerned pair from his mind. He hated Ogami Sakura and Asahina Aoi. He hated all of his classmates who had allowed Aniki to die. He hated Monokuma. He hated Fujisaki Chihiro because she was with Aniki and he wasn’t. He hated so much that his head spun. Monokuma’s nightly announcement aired and ended with Kiyotaka paying no mind to it. Eventually, he shuffled towards his bed, took a weary seat, and set the Oowada Butter on the adjacent drawer. He undressed to his briefs, socks and undershirt, in the dark, leaving his uniform to rest atop his boots on the floor. He knew it would wrinkle this way. He paid it no mind tonight. He swung his leg on to the bed, one at a time, mechanically, and let himself collapse. Laying there, Kiyotaka felt oddly restive. This was his typical bedtime, but his racing mind refused to align with his exhausted body, sleep would not grant him escape from this nightmare. He wanted desperately to will himself unconscious but every time he shut his eyes he saw Mondo’s neck snap. Again and again and again and again and-

The teen bolted upright and urgently switched on the bedside lamp. To his relief, he discovered the butter was right where he left it. He snatched up the container, taking the time to thoroughly examine it in the dim lamplight, reading all labels aloud in a shaky murmur. “Oowada Butter...Yankee Bread...Mondo...Two times the fat...80 kilograms...Keep refrigerated.” He gingerly turned the container on its side and read through the serving size, caloric total, nutritional facts, making his way to the ingredient summary,  
“Ingredients:...despair...cream...natural Oowada flavouring...salt...contains milk.”

The final warning text in bold stuck out to Kiyotaka. ‘Aniki doesn’t have any milk..?’ A feathery tingle engulfed his half-naked body and he chuckled joylessly at the thought for reasons he was unsure of. He lay back down, holding the container close.  
“Aniki,” he addressed his best friend’s face on the plastic lid, “you’re not really gone, are you..?” Then he peeled back the plastic lid to gaze upon the thick, cornsilk coloured expanse. 

‘Just because that bear didn’t mess with the doughnuts or any of our other food doesn’t mean he didn’t poison that butter!’ 

\- He pushed Aoi’s voice to the back of his brain until it was completely muffled as if she were speaking from underwater. 

The lid was off and placed beside him, Mondo side up. He breathed anxiously, excitedly as he ran his right index finger through the butter, collecting a fair amount of it on the length.

‘Whoa, are you sure? Just because that bear didn’t mess with-’

Kiyotaka shoved his butter covered finger between his lips and into his mouth. His bright eyes widened the second it met his taste buds. Never in his life had he tasted something so rich and creamy and salty. Never in his life had he tasted Oowada Mondo. He sucked his finger clean in one greedy slurp. 

“Aniki…” He breathed the title, plaintively, “you’re not really gone, are you…?” 

This time he collected a large amount with two unsteady fingers and inserted them deliberately into his hungry mouth. Carefully he slid the fingers in and out, savouring the unique flavour until his fingers were clean. He swallowed, then repeated this a second time, and a third time. But by the third time he began to experience a strong foreign sensation. His body grew hot and restless, and his heart throbbed and tumbled in his chest. Kiyotaka was vaguely familiar with the concept of lust and arousal but had never given in to those sort of thoughts. He was the Ultimate Public Morales Committee Member, and it would be unbecoming of him. So he’d push the rare moments of desire to the back of his mind and drown it with push-ups and Tai-chi, and homework and lectures. But never had he encountered want and need so agonising. And never had he felt so hopeless. 

Kiyotaka groaned and whispered with his mouth full “Ahhhh, Aniki...What do I do, Aniki?”  
With little thought, almost automatically, he scooped a small handful of butter with his left hand, slipped it into his tank top and slid a cold, buttered palm up the front of his chest until he found a nipple. He expelled several short and fast breathes as he encircled the sensitive thing with the heel of his palm then suddenly pinched it.

“Shit!” Kiyotaka hissed, nearly biting down on his own fingers. 

He wasn’t sure why he did that, it wasn’t something he’d ever thought to have done to himself. Regardless, the flustered boy yearned for more of this intense contact. Whatever had come over him, he craved more. By now the container was about half of its original contents. With both hands, he seized more of the decadent treat and began to feed his carnal hunger. His left palm slid smoothly up his chest to tend to his neglected right nipple all while three fingers on his right hand made love to his mouth, vigorously sliding in and out, overwhelming him with the taste of cream and saline. He resented the rest of his hand for not fitting into his mouth and preventing him to slide his three fingers further back, allowing him to gag on his Aniki. Kiyotaka relished in Aniki’s thickness and flavour, his toes curled and he crossed his legs, attempting to quench the new throbbing between his thighs. It wasn’t enough. He found his slick right hand had fallen from his mouth and was collecting a copious amount of butter, leaving it near depleted. His eyes grew wet as he pushed aside the cloth flap of his briefs and freed his arousal. Panting frantically he gripped the base of his shaft and slid up and down, meticulously spreading Aniki down this full erect length until slick with softened butter. More butter was collected with three fingers from his left hand and those fingers were subsequently thrust into his mouth. He drove his hips forward into his hand in hurried, desperate movements. Feeling Aniki. Tasting Aniki. Right now there was nobody else, just him and Aniki as one, for eternity. Without warning, Kiyotaka’s entire body clenched and he felt so light in the head that he wondered if he were floating above his sweat-drenched sheets. 

“What’s...hah...pening?” he sputtered between hastening breaths.

His eyes fluttered shut and for a moment he saw The Ultimate Biker Gang Leader shrouded in a curious, artificial green light, leering at him with those cold grey jewels for eyes. Oowada Mondo’s thin brows were knit in characteristic assurance and his lips were curled into a slight smirk. 

“Aniki…” The title of the man he loved dribbled from his lips as he came in long, pearl coloured spurts. 

The Ultimate Moral Compass lay there in the aftermath of his ecstasy, stained in sweat, butter and semen, finally able to catch his breath. He reached into the container once more, only for his soiled fingers to be met with plastic. Emptiness. Kiyotaka beamed in spite of the rivers that flowed from his sangria pools. 

He rolled over to face the lid that bore Oowada Mondo’s image and spoke to it. “There’s nothing they can do now, Aniki. We really will be together forever. I promise.”

And right then there really was no one else in the world but The Ultimate Public Morals Committee Member, his Aniki, and the girl who watched him through the surveillance camera in his bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone's staying safe right now, punch a cop, if you haven't already ;-)  
> With that aside, this is probably the wildest thing I've ever written just based on a singular joke between a friend and me. Other than that I have nothing to say for myself besides I ate some butter to make sure this fic was factually accurate. You're welcome.
> 
> Comments/feedback are appreciated and help me grow :)


End file.
